Somebody to Love
by HelikaAkileh
Summary: No, there was no lover, no wife, in his plan. He would be a broken man if he was forced to leave her, reduced to regrets and an endless sorrow more gaping than the void of the Kazaana. While that hole was depthless, his heart was barricaded. Miroku vowed not to fall in love unless the curse was lifted. Enter Sango. Written for Inuvember 2014. MirSan Oneshot.


**Somebody to Love**

He'd be completely lying if he said he didn't dream of finding the one right woman, falling in love, and living happily into old age with plenty of healthy offspring. Yes, he wanted that just as most ordinary men wanted that.

Too bad he wasn't an ordinary man.

Don't get him wrong or anything, he wasn't someone extraordinary. He was just a man with an exceptional problem.

He stared down at his right hand. Covered up like this and bound with beads, it looked so innocent. And it was.

_'Well_,' he smirked a bit, remembering the stinging aftereffects of a certain woman, '_Maybe not _that_ innocent_.' But harmless, nonetheless.

Miroku stared off into the river. He always headed straight for some sort of rock and body of water when he could. Being a Buddhist monk, he was taught to appreciate nature. After a while of being here and there he had found it was the watery scenery that calmed him down the most, put him at peace, and allowed his mind to flow.

Yes, he liked being alone sometimes. Him and his damn hand. Him and his curse. Thinking about his situation always made him feel completely alone in the world. When he wandered off from the group though, at least he could feel like he had a choice in the matter.

When he was with his comrades, the loneliness ebbed away somewhat. The feeling of isolation and the looming hopelessness that seemed to follow him like a shadow were eased slightly when he was around his group of friends.

He wasn't sure he could adequately explain to anyone, including himself, just what they meant to him, how they inspired him, motivated him.

They were after the same dark man who had ruined all their lives. He had faith that they could do it. In this group, with these people, he could accomplish his ultimate goal of destroying Naraku.

No... that wasn't the ultimate goal. If it could be helped, if he had any say in the matter, a happy ending of his own was the final destination he wished to reach. Naraku was just about the only thing standing in his way though.

He wanted to live past his curse.

But he was already closing in on his last days. His father had been about the same age as he was now before his Kazaana had swallowed him completely. Miroku shuddered both at the memory, and the thought of it occurring to him one day. Some day soon, even.

He recalled as a child watching his father's hand swallow him into nothing, leaving a gaping hole in the earth that left most people in both awe and confusion. His father had told him before his death that he must continue to fight. He must strive to reclaim the honor of his grandfather who was seduced by a mirage of a beautiful woman so long ago.

It was another curse that ran in his blood. Like his grandfather, like his father, Miroku had an extreme _fondness_ for women. Not just beautiful women, no. He did, as a matter of fact, care for _all _the women of the world. It was just the beautiful ones that caught his attention in a very... different way.

He was given a task to slay Naraku, and if it was impossible, then make sure his blood continued, that the battle continued until it was won, until the curse was lifted. No man wanted to have his line end. It was a matter of pride, a matter of honor.

That was why he needed to find a woman to bare his child; a _son_. He wasn't sure if the curse was only passed to the males in his family, but he would die himself before any daughter of his went into battle, or lived a life of fear and a vengeance driven existence.

Yes, he needed a son. A good looking, strong son that would be able to fight. That could defeat Naraku in his place if he fell before he had the chance to slay him himself.

But this son could not be the product of love. He could not bare the idea of leaving a woman he loved. If he had to leave anything behind, it would be an heir. He could leave his son, telling him words of strength, but to leave the one he loved... he could not do that; he wasn't strong enough to do that.

No, there was no lover, no wife, in his plan. He would be a broken man if he was forced to leave her, reduced to regrets and an endless sorrow more gaping than the void of the Kazaana. While that hole was depthless, his heart was barricaded-there was no room there to be had by any person. Miroku vowed not to fall in love unless the curse was lifted.

Enter Sango.

At first, she was the teeming essence of feminine youth and beauty. Through her costume, he could make out her curves, the lean muscles that contracted as she went about her work. She was the product of a life's worth of training on a body that was born beautiful by nature. Sango would have made for a good child-bearer.

Alas, she had been in mourning when he first met her. She would call him an imbecile many times over, but he was not that dumb, not that insensitive. A broken hearted woman, one with strength such as hers, did not need pity, nor a foolish promise. She demanded respect even when she was broken down and in tears.

Somehow though, after she had gotten better, he still could not bring himself to ask her his standard question, at least not without basically being prompted to do so. _Will you bear my children? _Hell, he'd even asked Kagome without a second thought. And while he couldn't ask Sango that question on his own merit, she became his _favorite_ female with whom to... interact.

He chalked up this phenomenon at first to her circumstances, then to his own. He didn't ask her because she had dealt with far too much pain to deal with his indecent proposal. The only reason he had asked Kagome all that time ago was because he had no intention of becoming one of her travel companions, one of her friends. When Sango made her entrance, he thought she too would make for a good addition to their group, what with the way she fought Inuyasha and held her own. He would not ask her if they were to be traveling together. It was simply a bad idea to lie with a comrade.

Yet his attraction to the taijiya betrayed him, as he found himself constantly drawn to her. She was an incredibly beautiful woman after all. But then... how could he after all that time, not have gotten bored of her? It's not to say that he got bored of Kagome, but after the initial meeting, she was just a friend, and he was completely unable to see her as something more (that, and the fact that a certain hanyou practically breathed venom if he stepped too close). Why not Sango then?

He had figured his attraction for her would wane soon enough. After living alongside her, he would see all her flaws, find her presence normal, grow accustomed to the same face day after day as he had gotten used to Kagome. Yet Sango was different. Getting to know her better was like watching a lily open into full bloom. By the time he knew nearly all of her, her habits, the way she looked first thing in the morning, she was only all the more glorious to him.

_Why? _

After the mourning, after the situations and circumstances, after the camaraderie, what was left?

Why could he not bring himself to ask her to bear his children, but it seemed like the easiest and most wonderful sensation to have his hands on her?

Maybe it's because if he asked her... it would have been a serious question. He would have to seriously put himself on the line, which meant she would have the opportunity to _seriously_ reject his proposal and break him.

Gods, he didn't deserve her for one thing. Even if she had agreed, she deserved a man as strong as she, someone who was of good character, not a man whose eyes were drawn to every attractive female figure across the land, not a man that often resorted to petty tricks to gain wealth, and definitely not a man that was _doomed_.

So every time he had the urge to sweep her up in his arms and confess his undying love for her (for once actually meaning the words), he would shove it down and turn it into lecherous attention. He could write her sonnets if they were under the guise of lust. She'd slap and swat him away, and it was all a big spectacle. He knew how to interact with women that way. He knew how to accept rejection that way. If he never put his heart on the line and only risked a slap to his face, then he could survive being scorned by her.

But if the curse were lifted... then he could ask her as a whole man.

If he could defeat Naraku, the man who had cursed his family, who had so cruelly caused the slaughter of Sango's entire village, who had used her younger brother as a tool, who had wreaked havoc on all the land, then he would be free of his curse. He would be free to live without fear. He would deserve to be with her.

He would not leave her behind when the Wind Tunnel finally took him. They could be together with a healthy family, with revenge had, and in the past. He could live with Sango and their children in glory, in harmony, in peace.

Until then, his curse would be used for good, used for her- used to live and fight, so that he could protect her and himself. The thought of being able to ask her, being able to wed her and have a future with her, drove him to fight- fight like hell for that chance.

He would not ask her until then. He could not promise her the things he wanted to until then, but he would love her. Gods above, how he would love her despite his best efforts not to.

The monk had hoped that he wouldn't fall in love, hoped this simply was _not_ love, that one day his attraction to her would fade, and that he could be separated from her without the agonizing pain.

_It could not happen though_, he thought with a small, sad smile.

He did love her, and he would fight for her and die for her if it came to that.

It was unplanned and uncharacteristic of the charming monk, yet somehow... this woman had gotten to him. She had thrown the Hiraikotsu at the walls meant to keep everyone out, and no matter how he desperately tried to push her away, he could not fully, and he could feel his love for her consuming him with more intensity than the Wind Tunnel could- and it was almost scarier as well.

It was a frightful how his words almost betrayed him around her, how much she affected him, how much he did not want to part from her, and how much simply being _comrades_ was not enough. She was so much more, but he fought valiantly to deny her entrance into his heart.

But Sango did as she pleased, and he was nothing against her, unlike any other woman he had ever encountered. She was stronger, more beautiful, more righteous and deserving. She was more than he had ever thought possible to find in a single person. She was more than a woman. She was too dear to him.

Yes, he had found someone that meant more than any other, one to care for and cherish, one to protect, one to respect. He had found somebody to love, and how he _truly did_ love her so...

That was exactly why he could not ask her to merely _bear his children_.

If he was going to be with her, by gods, he was going to _be_ with her. Live everyday of his life with her. The day he asked her to bear his children would be the day he asked if she would have him for the rest of her life. She was worth more than a single night. She was worth every breath in his body and beyond. Sango was a woman to love.


End file.
